ey yo ,im raisin ma sword against any adversary,
skampoe so fat on the track he soundin heavy,
i spit till i had ma fill
I showed and proved in the mist of the battle field,
where shit got real,
the cold steel of the mic is what i aim to kill
we walk with the rottweiler the schollars,
rest of the lames will no one feel,
ya cant stand a hour in ma habitat,
ya str8 pusseh on sum monistat,
u holdin weight playa i runnit back,
2 50 to pack n all i made was enough for that lil sack,
that lil sac and that fif of the henn,
sit back in the cut not givin a fuck
and wash all my emotions away thru the pen,
why is there so many fake niggaz noway a days
and nuffin but that real shit back then,
back when,
it was imperative to have some sort of skill along witcha narrative,
i feel like the Nazareth king
enforcing the realness for the win....

YA NIGGAZ THINK THAT IM PSYCHO,
CUZ I WALK AROUND WITH THE BLOOD ON MA DICK
FROM BEASTIN THE COOTCHIE ON HER MENSTRUAL CYCLE,
I LAY DOWN IN THE BOOTH N WITH A VERSE I SNIPED U!!

i should have took a lil more time mixin ma vocals, but this just a throw away freeverse!